Existance Is a Relative Term
by Bluestocking Inc
Summary: Every year, she pays the ferryman just so she can see another moment they'll never have. Heavy P/O. It's fluffy and depressing at the same time. One shot


_"Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it isn't real?" -"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" _by J.K. Rowling

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May 6, 2012

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It had been a year since Olivia and her alternate created the bridge between worlds, but only a month since a peace agreement was made.

Lincoln had asked her out for celebratory drinks, but she decided to come home. She had been feeling nauseous all day and phantoms seemed to have inhabited her peripheral vision. After a day of turning around with her gun drawn expecting to see an attacker, all she wanted was to curl up on her couch alone.

Olivia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She could feel one of her forever frequent headaches coming on. Her brain always felt like it was reaching for something that wasn't there. Walter said it was a side affect of the cortexiphan, but she wasn't so sure.

She was reaching for the aspirin container she always kept within a few feet of her person when she saw them.

There was a man with dark hair and a crease in his brow, grinning at her. Except, it wasn't Olivia. The woman in front of her looked exactly like her, down to the gray suit with the missing button she only wore on laundry days. The only difference was that her hair was shorter, and Olivia hypothesized that it was a little darker, but it was hard to tell with the strong glimmer that surrounded them.

Olivia drew her gun quietly.

"Peter, get off!" the other her laughed as the man wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Nope. You're going to be stuck right here until you give me an honest answer!"

The longer haired version swiped her hand in front of their faces, but their was no reaction. In fact, her hand accidentally hit the man called Peter's and passed through it.

"Don't make me tickle you, Dunham!"

Olivia grabbed her cell phone and began the first five digits of Lincoln's number, but something stopped her from continuing.

"Not if I get you first, Bishop…" Olivia's alternate twisted around in his arms and tickled his stomach. He let go in surprise.

She smirked in triumph.

"This isn't over!"

And indeed it wasn't. Olivia watched Peter and herself laugh and fight and smile all night, with an unexplainable longing ache in her stomach.

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May 6, 2013

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Olivia stared at the wall with almost frightening concentration, waiting for them to appear. She hadn't told anyone about the last time, even though she was sure Walter and Astrid would have things to say about it. She'd wanted to, but whenever she got close an overwhelming sense of sadness overtook her.

Her voice yelled from behind her.

"Put me down."

"No."

"What do you mean,_ no_?"

"It's tradition! Good luck."

"It's stupid! I've lived here for six years and you've been living here for two. There is no need to carry me across the threshold."

"Ah, you just want to get to the champagne."

"Maybe. You're a fun drunk."

Our universes Olivia took another sip of wine. The headaches had been getting progressively worse throughout the year. Seemingly random things seemed to set them off-tulips, silver coins, and card tricks were the worst offenders. But this headache was mind splitting. She'd begun to see spots.

"You looked very nice in that tux tonight."

"Really? Here I was thinking your dress was getting all the attention."

"Oh?"

"Yes. But it was about what was in the dress that counts… Okay, that came out wrong."

"I think it's sweet… You know, there's another threshold you might have to carry me through." She looked pointedly at the bedroom.

Our Olivia closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass.

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May 6, 2014

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Olivia was determined to ignore them tonight.

The headaches had receded considerably with the Massive Dynamic medication she'd been taking, but she'd been warned that seeing another trigger-like the coin trick that had set off her coma-could potentially kill her. She'd considered getting a hotel room… but, once again, some masochistic desire made her stay.

"Is it pink or blue?"

"It looks purple to me."

The voices were coming from Olivia's bathroom.

"What does purple mean?"

"Well, it's possible that multi-universal zygotes require a multi-universal tests."

Olivia listened through a shooting pain in the back of her head. This was the first time she'd heard them acknowledge other universes.

"I think it got pinker."

"Is pink good?"

"I suppose that would depend on your stance on unplanned pregnancy."

"Really? We're having a baby?"

"Really, 'Livia."

Olivia passed out with those words seared in her mind.

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May 6, 2015

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"Shush, Peter. She just went to sleep."

"She's a cute sleeper."

"Oh, definitely."

"I can't believe she doesn't have the Bishop snore."

"Me too. I couldn't deal with two of you."

Olivia had been taken off duty after her last collapse. After two months of begging, Astrid had convinced her to take drawing classes. And that's how, four years after The Bridge was created, Olivia sits behind an easel, drawing that glimmering scene of family in front of her before the pain takes it all away.

"She's definitely got your eyes."

"Your head of hair. It's going to be a problem when she's older."

"You don't like my hair!"

Now, she welcomes the pain as an old friend, and slowly drifts away.

"Beautiful, that's what she is."

"Yeah. Beautiful."

And she drifts into oblivion.

"Olivia!"

It's Peter.

Her Peter.

For the first time in years, her head has stopped hurting. The thing that her battle worn brain has been searching for is finally in its grasp. She remembers him.

She remembers him.


End file.
